


for the love of science

by dinosuns



Category: Dr. STONE (Anime), Dr. STONE (Manga)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Dorks in Love, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, Introspection, Late Night Conversations, M/M, playful evasion they refuse to call flirting but it is, senku notices something Interesting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:55:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25216612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dinosuns/pseuds/dinosuns
Summary: “Horrible, isn’t it?”Then, as if to leave no doubts to his meaning, Gen slowly tugs Senku’s hand towards his wrist to press against the pulse point and feel. Listen. Understand.“Yeah.” Senku gives a shaky grin. "It’s ten billion percent horrible.”Facts are facts, science is science, and Gen is important. These three statements are undeniable in their truth. So, as to why his mentalist cannot grasp all of this, it needs addressing.
Relationships: Asagiri Gen/Ishigami Senkuu
Comments: 20
Kudos: 264





	for the love of science

**Author's Note:**

> had this sitting for a while in my gdocs and decided I should throw it out to the world!! i would love to write more of this fandom and these two sometime - it was so fun!!
> 
> enjoy 8)

Senku is used to having Gen in his peripheral. If not directly by his side, he’s hovering somewhere close by. Much like a star in orbit, or an anchor cast overboard - there’s a loose tug, often to his sleeve and rarer to his focus entirely. 

That is not a sentimental observation, nor is it one Senku can speak into existence, it’s simply born from the truth. From what has become so familiar in the kingdom of science that the absence of it is more profound than he ever expects it to be. 

It’s Asagiri Gen who pledged to go to hell with him, whose cleverness is calculated and not without the precision of intricate clockwork. He chose the side of science, and has given it ten billion percent.

So the first time after a successful win for the kingdom of science Gen isn’t right there grinning like a Cheshire Cat who got the cream, it’s unnervingly misplaced. 

The victory isn’t particularly grand, but it’s another exhilarating step on their route to conquering this stone world and hurtling faster through human advancement.

Gen’s open delight and wonder has often become a cue for Senku’s satisfaction to sneak over his lips, a small laugh knocked out his chest.

Instead, Gen is stepping into the shadows from across the fire, a smile too close to wistful etched into his mouth as their eyes barely catch. 

Chrome is cheering, plunging a fist into the air and spieling some kind of adrenaline-induced gibberish, which is not surprising considering they stayed up most of the night to complete this endeavour. 

Senku presses his eyes shut as he speaks.

“Heh, now things are getting ten billion percent more interesting.” 

When he opens his eyes, Gen is nowhere in sight. 

The thrum of discovery and thrill of science remains close, at least. 

* * *

Now Senku has noticed this shift, it is a glaring anomaly that only makes itself known further. Between his work, he notes Gen tiptoe around the camp as if an unwelcome intruder. Not all the time, but enough for the their one-to-one conversations to have all but fizzled into oblivion.

The contributions Gen does make remains the same as always. Yet something has changed. It is far more irritating than Senku can even begin to articulate. The Gen he’s used to would prod and probe and poke without a shred of hesitation. He would make ridiculous remarks over Senku's shoulder, or at the very least look shamelessly pleased with himself for concocting a scheming and terrible plan. 

This makes no sense. Senku can’t find a rational reason for the change in behaviour. Unfortunately, this means there is a chance at the core of all of this is a matter that lies with the human mind. Or, even more baffling, sentiment. 

When it happens again, Senku makes the decision to follow Gen. He excuses himself from the bustling excitement of the others and the warmth of the fire, dipping into the shadows where the afterglow of their success wanes further away. 

Sulking would be dramatic and purposefully for show - so that is immediately ruled out. Brooding isn’t something Gen seems willing to submit to, because this isn't about garnering attention. If anything, Gen is craving the complete absence of it. Slipping into obscurity as if he belongs there - like nobody would notice. 

Amidst that is a wistful kind of yearning. Almost as if Gen is on the precipice of his whole world upturning all over again. So to prepare, he is starting to sever not his involvement but his attachment. A farewell, of sorts. 

Senku doesn’t like it. 

The mentalist isn’t dragging his feet as he walks, but there is no buoyancy to his steps. Weird. 

“Where the hell are you sneaking off to this time, mentalist?” Senku says, words not quite as cool and collected as he wants them to be. 

This has gone on long enough. Once should have been enough of warning to take further action. Self-depreciation doesn't really suit the kingdom of science yet alone his mentalist. 

Gen freezes, but his expression is expertly schooled into one of repose. Eyes crinkled, he smiles. It’s all part of the performance. 

“Hello there Senku-Chan. Whatever are you doing out here, hm?” 

Senku decides he isn’t really in the mood to play these sort of games. Gen could talk just about anybody around in circles with his silver serpent tongue. But Senku has a weapon of his own, and it often means their words work in effortless tandem. They're a good team this way, and many other ways Gen might be ridiculous enough to try and forget. 

Hands on hips, Senku stares Gen down. 

Pretences never stood a chance against them, not really. In fact, not much else did either. From the genesis of the kingdom of science, Gen had made his mark there. He’d stood by Senku’s side, simpered like a spectator whilst being so very far from the sidelines. There’s something about that paradox which would merit amusement in any other situation. 

Not now, however. 

Probably because Senku never expected his mentalist to ever believe such a steaming pile of bullshit - that Gen is a pawn on the board and not the player making the moves alongside him. 

“I was looking for my right-hand, what else.” 

Gen’s eyes crinkle, a crescent moon hanging off his mouth. The expression isn’t gleaming in the starlight, nor is it as bright as he thinks it is. Gesturing to Senku's hands, the mentalist responds with the kind of tone he clearly expects to be distracting. There he goes, dressing up the budding tension with frivolity and misplaced jollity. 

“Oh? But you appear to be in tact, Senku-chan!” 

It lacks any credibility. Of course. 

Still, for just a moment, Senku is generous enough to let him say his piece in peace. Words are jewels to Gen, never wasted or traded sparingly. Whatever he says, regardless of delivery, it matters. The real message is in there somewhere. 

And what Seku hears drags a breathy laugh from his lips, mangled with exasperation he hadn’t planned on showing. To be honest, he’s not sure what is more insulting to his intelligence, the terrible joke or the fact Gen really thought he could pull this kind of evasion right now and get away with it. 

“Save the stand-up for someone with better material, mentalist.” Pause.

Averting his gaze, Senku folds his arms across his chest.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

Something in Gen’s expression falters, briefly, but then the carefully composed mask is back. More is buried beneath the cracks, permeating from beneath the stone Gen sometimes acts like he hasn’t escaped. 

“I see,” Gen coos, voice bordering sickly sweet. “Well, yes. There is certainly a lot of potential in the new risers to fill such a role.” 

Senku blinks. Then blinks once more. There's every chance Gen is testing him, wading the waters in his own way. But that intangible flash of emotion tells him perhaps not. Incredulous laughter rises in his chest, sits there and festers. Until it barrels out messily and too unhinged to accept. 

But a scientist is always a scientist first and foremost. Assumptions are unfounded and illogical. The seed has been planted, but Senku needs something more conclusive than predictions and the handful of admittedly biased results. He needs to haul out the roots, ascertain if his theory is true. Then he can marvel at how this baffling anomaly has grown right under his own nose without notice. 

_How long had he felt this way? What had been the catalyst to propel this thought into motion? Why-_

“They’ll be worthy members of society, that’s for sure. Everyone has a part. Though none of them are suited to being the adviser of science, our key negotiator.” 

Gen smirks. It doesn’t hide the silver wisps in his eyes that don’t blink out of existence.

Absurd, how the pale moonlight can cast such poignancy upon those it’s taken a shining to. 

More absurd is how Senku is bordering the realm of poetry in his own mind, of his own accord with no ulterior motive beyond simply conjuring up the words themselves. 

Disgusting. 

“High standards, Senku-chan?” 

Senku fails to find an explanation for the quiver in his palms, the heaviness of his tongue. It takes a moment to form the right words the right way. Such a thing is ten billion percent awful, an experience he would not wish to endure again. 

“It’s an important role. Being a manipulative, ingenious bastard… heh. That’s not something just anyone can do, mentalist.”

That seems to evoke some sort of realisation in Gen. Finally. In the quiet of the night, the small gasp of breath that is pried from his lips isn’t allowed to saunter away into silence. Senku doesn’t waste a moment, chasing it. Acting on it.

Evidence: acquired. 

“Now society is rebuilding itself, we’re accelerating towards new heights. There’s more on the horizon than ever to gain." 

Senku is fully aware of the fact that the larger the population grows and the more they expand, the more there is to offer.

Science will always be the pinnacle driving force, but they’re at the point now where careers and currency are coming into their own. There’s a chance to forge personal goals, not just clutch the reins for survival. 

It’s not quite an accusation, but Gen must hear what lingers between the words clear enough. He takes a step forwards.

This is the most serious he’s looked for some time. 

“I have no regrets following you this far, Senku-chan…”

Strange. 

How of all ridiculous statements Gen has uttered in this conversation, this is the one that snaps the tightly wound elastic in Senku’s chest. As it does, Senku’s eyes sharpen. 

“That doesn’t explain why you've been distancing yourself lately from us.” 

_From me_ , goes unsaid but is heard. Gen tilts his head, a rueful smile nestled on his face. 

“Doesn’t it? It’s quite logical, I’d say.”

Oh. 

So this is about self-preservation. Or rather, doubts masquerading in that form. Senku lifts his gaze to the stars. Under the telescope, he could see them clearer and chart them out. 

“There’s nothing logical about losing you.” 

The words are weighted. Loaded, even. The silence that ensues is almost unbearable. Beside him, Gen tucks his hands into his sleeves. He hums, as if considering something. But it’s more of an instinctive gesture for show than anything else. 

Perhaps that would make this dangerous in another lifetime, that they can both read each other so well and still have more cards to play. 

“How sentimental, Senku-chan. I’m truly moved,” Gen teases, but the quiver in his voice betrays the attempted nonchalance. 

Lips twitching into a smirk, Senku continues. It’s refreshing, that they can navigate this kind of conversation so fluently. Embarrassment is nowhere in sight, tucked beneath bones and a mere itch Senku refuses to scratch. 

After all, sweeping grand admissions aren’t really his style, or forte. 

Facts are facts, science is science, and Gen is important.

These three statements are undeniable in their truth.

“Yeah. Whatever. I mean, it’d be a real pain in the ass to find a replacement this far down the line.” 

“That’s so cold, Senku-chan!!" Gen gasps, theatrics ablaze in full swing.

He pouts, the gleam in those clever eyes returning tenfold and it’s ten billion percent of a relief to see.

"Perhaps I really will offer my services elsewhere if they are not truly appreciated.” 

Whilst, the world never stopped its spinning, second after second continues to pass them and Senku knows this because he has never really stopped the counting, Senku entertains the possibility that somehow it had. Purely for the sake of marvelling at how everything realigns in this moment.

For _feeling_ that it has. 

“Well before you go gallivanting off into the sunset, stay a little longer at least. We haven’t even knocked on the devil’s door yet.” 

“Mhm. I suppose that is true…" Gen's lips twitch. "What a compelling point, Senku-chan. Do tell me more." 

Senku stays quiet, coaxing that curiosity Gen is hooked on further out into the open, because the mentalist isn't the only bastard here. Then their eyes meet, and the clarity of it is bruising. Confidence wilts.

Whatever game they're playing, Senku isn't so sure of the rules anymore. 

It makes no sense, not in the way Senku could easily explain in a formula or recreate in the lab with a list of materials. The distance between them lessens, shoulders brush and hands graze until fingers are bumping which is not something Senku had planned for. 

Ah. 

Senku glances down. The sly bastard dropped his hands from his sleeves, just as Senku had unfolded his arms. It's a move that had been planned perfectly. The touch lingers on Senku's skin, tingles in a way that is ridiculous. His heartbeat accelerates despite the absence of imminent danger or physical exertion. 

It’s all enough to falter his composure, leave him a little lost. 

Good thing he has his mentalist here to navigate them through these woods. As if on cue, Gen chimes in. Far too conversationally and far too knowing. 

“Horrible, isn’t it?” 

Then, as if to leave no doubts to his meaning, Gen slowly tugs Senku’s hand towards his wrist to press against the pulse point and feel. Listen. Understand. 

Senku’s eyes widen, and it’s fortunate that nobody else will ever witness this because he can feel the involuntary warmth flood his face.

Well.

Embarrassment might be fighting a winning battle to surface.

Only for tonight. 

“Yeah.” Senku gives a shaky grin. “It’s ten billion percent horrible.” 

It’s only when he catches the satisfied - bordering smug - gleam in Gen’s eyes does Senku realise he’s made mistake. An oversight, even. Which is stupid and ridiculous as hell. 

Gen isn’t on his side or his own, he’s on their side. That has been the case from the outset, something Senku already knew. Yet still he is exactly where the mentalist calculated he would soon be. 

Under the guise of reaffirming his devotion to the kingdom of science, Gen has lured them to the point where semi-hand-holding has suddenly become moderately comfortable. Natural. He’s moved them from playful snide banter to slow and - dare he say - subtle seduction under the moonlight. 

Damn mentalist. 

There’s only one thing Senku can do, really. Gen set the foundations down, and it's only fair that the rest is built upon. Much like the kingdom of science, this merits expansion. Development. 

Yes. It even might deserve some meticulous attention. 

Curling his fingers around the slender wrist, Senku smirks.

“If that’s all you've got up your sleeve, mentalist, I’m afraid you might be losing your touch.” 

Gen leans forwards, the smile on his lips fond and gentle. 

“Then I'll have to demonstrate my best." 

A hand winds around Senku's waist, tugging them closer. Now they have been wound together, fully into orbit. Gravity hasn’t magically changed, but Senku would argue a force has grown in the space between them and it has a very insistent pull. 

Interesting. 

Because there is nothing scientific about it. That sensation is entirely founded upon altered perception, heightened awareness of human connection. 

Senku keeps his hand on Gen’s wrist, marking the tempo. Meagre reassurance he isn't the only one a little out of his depth. 

"In the interest of human advancement?" Senku asks. 

“For the love of science,” Gen counters. Coyly, of all things. 

Ridiculous. 

That plucks a laugh out of Senku’s mouth. Brittle and uneven. Gen is gracious enough to let that go unnoticed. For now, at least. 

It’s a little more like solving equation or uncovering a puzzle this way. And Senku has a suspicion Gen knows that keeping this in an area of familiarity whilst changing a few of the components is the most efficient method to obtain results.

The fact Gen apparently can navigate Senku this astoundingly well is a billion percent a risk. On the other side of this perilous tipping point, it is an advantage. 

Somewhere in the middle, it is simply unsurprising. Inevitable, even. 

Gen had to just go and throw that awful little word out there that is so awful because it isn't little at all. Yet he did it in such an underhanded and cunning way if Senku really wanted to dismiss it he could. And that in itself is a science of its own. A fascinating, brilliant manoeuvre of wit and illusive mastery. 

And so it is for the love of science, that Senku makes his own claim towards victory. He smirks, leading them in this curious hushed dance under the moonlight. 

“Bring it on, mentalist.” 


End file.
